


Torch

by FruitofSorrow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, but with adjustments of my own design, volleyball dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 14:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21078440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitofSorrow/pseuds/FruitofSorrow
Summary: "Only Hinata could make him feel this way—like every word was flame that licked at his barriers, and every touch a torch that lit up his insides and consumed him. And the nickname—it itched like a healing burn on skin destined to bear his mark."~A look-back at Kagehina's evolving relationship from Kageyama's perspective.





	Torch

**Part 1.**

The first time Kageyama laid eyes on Hinata Shoyo, the small boy was outside of the boys’ bathroom having a standoff with Kitagawa Daiichi’s not-yet-bench-warmers. At first, he thought nothing of the kid. He was small and frail-looking, as though he might double over at any given moment, but there was nothing remarkable about the guy apart from his fiery hair color — nothing for Kageyama to latch onto—no incentive or need to commit the face to memory.

He would’ve been able to comfortably walk away from the scene if not for one of the second-years saying something unsportsmanlike, but Kageyama, ever the authoritarian, had no choice but to put the rowdy trio in their place. He sent them off with tails tucked between their legs and their faces aflame, and before he knew it, he was alone with the short stranger. 

“You caught me just as I was about to tell them off myself,” the boy said, and the unearned swagger in his voice gave Kageyama pause. 

“Don’t talk big. You can’t even stay in shape,” he said. “That’s why you get mocked.”

Kageyama couldn’t help the sneer that twisted his face. The boy wasn’t taking the tournament seriously; he could see the nonchalance in his eyes, the empty bravado, and coupled with his poor condition, there was no way he planned on making it far. If there was anything Kageyama hated more than losing, it was standing on the court opposite unmotivated and underprepared players. Ensuring that one was in his absolute best condition before a match was a given for any serious athlete.

He turned away from the unsightly boy with a bitter taste in the back of his throat. “What did you even come here for?” He muttered under his breath. 

He hadn’t been expecting a response. When Kageyama laid down the truth, however crudely, people shut up and took it. Eyes might tear, and fists might clench, but there would be no words—no spluttering excuses— because, at the end of the day, those who provoked Kageyama’s wrath knew deep down that they’d done something to deserve it. 

“I came here to win, of course!”

The words sounded ridiculous to his ears. Too easily said. But for the first time in what seemed like forever, Kageyama felt like he was being challenged. He tilted his head back, ready to chew into the boy like he’d done to others countless times before, but the fully formed words quickly died on the tip of his tongue.

“I may not be tall,” the boy said, amber eyes burning right through him, lighting up every atom in his body. “But I can jump!”

Kageyama’s eye twitched. 

The little captain, was he being serious? He scrutinized him (perhaps for the first time), all 160-something centimeters of him, and nothing he saw gave him a reason to fear the boy. Then why?

Why did his heart start to quiver?

Later, when the match was underway, and the other team had dropped the ball for the fourth time in a row, Kageyama didn’t succumb to his baser instincts and lower his guard. _There is no way a team can play this poorly,_ he thought. 

His brow furrowed, and his mind worked a mile a minute, trying to untangle the web that was their opponent’s master plan. The more he watched the little captain, the more he suspected the other team was hiding a trump card. The kid was clumsy and inexperienced, but he was fast, and Kageyama saw now that his resolve lit up his eyes like sunlight. 

_So he isn’t just full of hot air._

Kageyama wasn’t unreasonable. He could admit he’d erred in judging the kid so severely. But nothing changed the fact that he had so much to prove.

_He hasn’t done anything remarkable yet_.

Then it happened.

Their setter accidentally sent the ball back to where there was no one to spike it. Kageyama’s eyes widened. 

_A mistake? _

The shocked look on their setter’s face confirmed that theory immediately.

_Another careless error,_ Kageyama lamented, half-heartedly. 

Somebody who could match him both in skill and zeal, that was the kind of adversary Kageyama had been longing for. Better yet if that person could be a partner to him. One perfect ally to receive his sets and spike the ball without fail.

_This isn’t it._

Kageyama was just about to plant his feet firmly on the floor and wait for the referee to blow the whistle when the unexpected happened. There was a flash of orange in Kageyama’s periphery. He only had a couple of seconds to realize what was happening. 

The little captain dashed for the ball with freakish speed, arms out and ready to make contact with the ball, and jumped higher than anyone his size should have the ability to.

Kageyama didn’t have time to berate himself for not having marked the ball properly. His legs moved on their own, and his arm went up to block the shot as the little captain spiked it over the net, but his reach was a bit short, and the ball soared past him with a whoosh that ruffled his hair. 

Heart beating loudly in his chest, he looked back in time to see that one of his teammates had dived for the ball, but it was on the ground. Had it landed inside?

Kageyama’s heart skipped only a beat before the referee blew on his whistle. 

_Out._

Silence fell over the court and stands, which allowed Kageyama to hear the staggered sighs of relief on their side of the net as his team celebrated the victory of another set.

_That was close,_ he thought, thawing. While the others seemed to rest easy, Kageyama couldn’t slow the thrumming in his chest or the pulsing in his temples that threatened to drown out the world around him.

As shoddy as he was at volleyball, the little captain had almost _tricked_ them, a powerhouse team. 

Kageyama stopped to think about what the kid might’ve been capable of if only he’d been trained properly from the start. Perhaps…

His head whipped around, eyes searching for that obnoxious shade of orange. He spotted the boy court-side, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as one of his teammates helped him to his feet. Despite what the scoreboard said, his eyes still had that hopeful shine in them, and Kageyama realized all at once that he’d never met anyone quite so frustrating. It was like seeing his reflection in the mirror. All the things that made him a good volleyball player were there, in that small package, but out of order. Flipped.

_All that potential laid to waste…_

Kageyama pressed his lips into a hard line, oblivious to his own shaking.

“Hey!” He shouted angrily, the volume of his voice making the boy jump. Everyone turned to look at him. Anticipation buzzed in the air like static.

Kageyama stepped forward, grabbed the net with both hands, and stared those amber eyes down. “What have you been doing these last three years?”

**Part 2.**

The second time Kageyama encountered the little captain, he was so surprised that he dropped the ball he’d been about to serve over the net.

"What are you doing here!" the boy said with wide eyes gleaming and a scowl on his face.

Kageyama learned for the second time that the boy's name was Hinata Shouyo, and that he hadn't grown at all since they last met. Kageyama wondered if, at the very least, he'd improved his game. If they were going to be on the same team, Hinata would have to be able to keep up with him and the team. Just remembering his mediocre performance during their match from the school year prior made a dark fog creep up behind his eyes.

But that was neither here nor there. Even if Hinata hadn't gotten better, the kid would just get benched. Not Kageyama's problem. What _did_ concern him was that Hinata was an annoying loud-mouth with an attitude in addition to being a dumbass. That kind of personality always came with problems. In fact, since stepping foot inside the gym, Hinata hadn't stopped trying to pick a fight with him. He reminded Kageyama of a yapping chihuahua. All bark and no bite.

Hinata wouldn't give it a rest even when the third-years came to introduce themselves. Kageyama realized quickly that the only way to put him in his place was to give him what he wanted most: the chance to demonstrate the skills he'd supposedly honed over the summer. 

Challenge accepted, Kageyama picked one of the volleyballs off the court and went to stand behind the white line. His first serve flew right by Hinata's head, just as he'd visualized it would. If there was any doubt of Kageyama's strength and pinpoint accuracy, that had erased all of it. But the boy wanted more, and the more he asked for the ball, the more Kageyama's teeth ground together.

_Have you not had enough?_

He hit him the ball again, and this time Hinata was able to make contact, but the angle was all wrong. In a matter of seconds, the ball flew astray and hit the vice principal in the face, knocking the rug he wore right off his head. 

The gym went silent.

When the captain returned after being lectured, Kageyama braced himself for discipline that never came. All would go on as usual so long as nobody spoke of what had happened. However, the vice principal's generosity did nothing to smooth out the kinks in Kageyama and Hinata's earlier dispute. Kageyama ended up putting blame on Hinata for the incident, and Hinata on Kageyama, and when it became clear that the two of them wouldn't be working in tandem soon, the captain kicked them out. 

Outside the gym, they listened to the sounds of squeaking tennis shoes and the pitter-patter of balls hitting the court. The sounds of dreams and aspirations dangling like carrots in front of them, barely out of reach, taunting them.

He turned to the short boy, and like a broken record, said: "This is your fault."

Hinata, who had been crouching in front of the gym door like a mewling kitten begging to be let in, crawled over to the bottom-most step where Kageyama was seated, sulking.

"If you'd just tossed to me as I asked, we would be playing ball in there, too," he said, shoving a finger toward the closed doors. 

Kageyama turned his head to aim more insults his way, unaware that Hinata was so close. He pulled back slightly. 

Hinata's eyes narrowed, burning, and wet. 

"Oi, are you crying?"

"What?" Hinata said, leaning back on his heels. "I-I'm not." He wiped at his eyes roughly with his arm. "I've just been staring at the door too long, is all."

His voice cracked, and for a moment, Kageyama almost sympathized with him. The boy was upset, and this kind of desire—the physical need to play volleyball—was so primal and raw, like a hunger, that when left unattended, gave way to frustration.

Despite the idiot's many flaws, Kageyama could at least concede him one thing: Hinata had the drive necessary to excel at this sport.

Perhaps there was a way he could use that fire to their advantage.

"You heard what Sawamura-senpai said. We need to beat the other first years in a match before we can practice inside with the team, and I can become setter. I'm willing to put up with you if you promise not to be a complete nuisance on the court."

Hinata's eyes narrowed. "What was that?" He said, leaning forward with a hand cupped around his ear. "I could've sworn I heard a cry for help, but maybe I imagined it."

Kageyama's hand shot out to grip Hinata's head.

"Ow, ow, ow!"

"Say that again. I dare you."

"Okay, I'm sorry. Let go of my hair; you're going to rip my scalp off."

He unclenched his hand, and Hinata slumped unceremoniously on the concrete, grabbing his head and whimpering in pain.

Kageyama rolled his eyes. 

He hadn’t grabbed him _that_ hard.

Before he could bring himself to be sorry, Kageyama got to his feet and crossed his arms.

"Practice tomorrow. Five o'clock. Don't be late."

Hinata's glare faltered when the words finally registered, and he grinned.

"Really? You'll toss to me?"

Kageyama tsk' ed. "We'll see about that."

He turned and started to leave. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hinata shouted after him. "Are you going to toss to me or not?"

Kageyama buried his hands in his pockets.

Tomorrow would be a long day.

**Part 3.**

Hinata was a pain in Kageyama’s ass. A ball of unbridled energy with rays shooting in all directions like the sun. When a volleyball flew in the shorter boy’s direction, his eyes would glow, and his stance would get only a smidge more confident, even when he had no skills to back it up. Still, he strived to improve, and that alone put him in the upper echelons of first years as far as Kageyama was concerned.

“What did you say?” Hinata growled, standing on his toes to try to match the titan that was the spectacled blond looking down at him.

“You’re short,” the guy said, “and you won’t stand a chance against us on Saturday, but if you ask _real_ nice, I’ll consider throwing the game for you. Whoever wins or loses doesn’t matter to me.”

Tsukishima pushed the glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t worry, we’ll beat you even at your best,” Hinata said, and for once, Kageyama didn’t mind the smaller boy’s posturing. The tall guy was sending off all sorts of alarms.

“Perhaps the _king_ could, but I don’t expect much from someone as tall as my big toe.”

“Hey!” Hinata said, eyes fiery.

“Don’t mind him,” Kageyama said, having heard enough. “There’s no point getting all worked up now. We’ll settle this on the court.”

Hinata backed down, slightly deflated, but a glare remained fixed on his pale face.

“Look, Yamaguchi, at how easily the king’s subject cows to his word,” Tsukishima said, and the green-haired boy beside him cracked a devious smirk.

Kageyama’s jaw tightened. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve?”

_Is this guy a sadist?_ Kageyama thought. _Why is he trying to pick a fight?_

“I’ve heard all about you, king, and what happened with your former team. I’d wondered if the rumors were true, but seeing that you boss around shrimpy here, they probably weren’t so groundless.”

Kageyama’s heart nearly jumped to his throat. 

_Dammit._ He thought he’d gotten over that trauma.

“What are you talking about?” Hinata said. The words were heated, but there was genuine curiosity in them, too. 

_He has no idea._

Kageyama’s eyes flickered to Tsukishima. 

He schooled his expression to the best of his ability and hoped there weren’t any remnants of desperation on his face. _Please don’t say anything._

Tsukishima considered him a while, a finger on his bottom lip, before scoffing and turning to his companion. “Let’s go, Yamaguchi. ”

“You didn’t answer me!” Hinata shrieked, shaking his fist in the air, “Oi!”

“Shut up, idiot,” Kageyama growled.

He thought he heard Tsukishima chuckle, but couldn’t tell from the stoic lines of his back. 

When the two first-years were out of earshot, Hinata turned to him once more.

“Don’t call me an idiot in front of the enemy! We’re supposed to be on the same side.”

Kageyama scowled at him, and Hinata flinched.

“I know I’m not as good as you,” Hinata said suddenly, voice going soft. “But I’m trying my best here. The least you could do is show some support. We won’t win against those two, and the senpais will never let us play if we don’t get this teamwork thing figured out.”

Kageyama hated to admit that he was right. Hinata was a liability, and he was bound to make a lot of terrible plays even with all this practice, but maybe not all was lost. If Kageyama could try to match him a little—could learn to toss to him a little more slowly—Hinata might be able to send some balls over the net. 

Memories of Kageyama’s final middle school match flashed in his head. He shivered.

No. Kageyama wasn’t going to let his bad experiences follow him here. He was at Karasuno now: a new school with a brand new team.

“It’s getting cold,” Hinata said, “and we didn’t bring our jackets. Maybe we should pick this up tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Hinata twirled the volleyball in both hands and looked up at him with a grin. His cheeks were tinged pink from the cold, and his eyes were gleaming so bright and full of spirit that the flame slumbering in Kageyama’s chest roared to life. 

He watched the dumb kid bound away, a little awed. Hinata had a way of energizing people with his optimism and zeal, a gift Kageyama envied as someone whose mere presence on a team tended to have the opposite effect. He was like a shadow that loomed over the court and his teammates. 

Perhaps being on the same team as Hinata wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

“I’ll race you to the club room, Bakageyama!”

Never _fucking_ mind, he thought.

He kicked the dirt and sprinted, eyes fixed intently on Hinata’s retreating form.

**Part 4.**

The first time Kageyama saw Hinata break down, complete with fat tears and heartwrenching sobs, was after their loss against Seijoh in the Interhigh Prelims. After the game, they’d all tried their best to hold in the pain while sharing a somber meal as a team, but the grief was so new and unexpected, like a shockwave to the body, that no one was able to offer any comforting words or gestures. It was as though the sorrow they each felt was private and not the shared experience it needed to be.

When the first wracking sob shook within Hinata’s small chest, it was a sobering moment for Kageyama, who’d been all-consumed by the memory of the final point to see that his teammate, his partner, was in as much anguish as he.

“Oi,” he said, stopping on the side of the road and catching the back of Hinata’s shirt. 

The sky had turned orange, and the setting sun cast long shadows behind the trees and buildings. Hinata’s own shadow dragged behind him as though it were a burden—a phantom ball and chain that dug into the concrete and left destruction in its wake.

Kageyama wanted to put his arm around the small shoulders and tell Hinata there was nothing to be so sad about, but he knew it’d only make him a hypocrite. Wasn’t he also inconsolably distraught?

Before he could open his mouth, Hinata squared his shoulders to face him.

“Next time,” he said, wiping a sleeved arm across his eyes. There was a sniffle. “Next time, we’ll win for sure.”

Kageyama’s shoulders pulled back, chest puffed out. “T-that’s right.”

He noticed at last that Hinata’s eyes were wet and sparkling, and his breath hitched. 

Only much later would he admit to himself that Hinata had looked pretty with his face flushed and eyes all starry.

When Hinata cocked his head to the side, Kageyama cleared his throat awkwardly.

“You’re all red,” Hinata noted, interest in his tone. “Are you alright?”

Kageyama scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be, dumbass?” 

Anxious to hide his embarrassment, he swiveled in place and started to walk briskly ahead of the redhead.

He heard Hinata chuckle before running to catch up to him. When they were side by side again, he bumped into Kageyama’s side playfully, compromising his footing and causing him to careen into an iron post.

Something red surged within Kageyama, and he wondered why the hell he’d even bothered trying to cheer Hinata up. Then Hinata smiled so sunnily, and all his indignation melted away.

_Ah_, he thought, lightheaded. _That’s right_.

**Part 5. **

The next time he saw Hinata cry, neither boy could contain his elation.

Seijoh was defeated, and all the training that the two had undergone, all those endless hours of pouring blood, sweat, and tears, had finally paid off.

_They_, the purported freak-duo, had shown what they were made of and _won_.

Now, with the team, they’d be going on to face the defending champions for a place at nationals. The next stage of their volleyball careers. The final frontier.

Kageyama froze in place, unable to tear his gaze from the ball that had moments prior rebounded off Oikawa’s hands and landed outside the court, securing Karasuno their match-winning point.

“Oi,” Hinata said, slowly turning to him, eyes large and rounded. “D-did—we win?”

“We—,” Kageyama said breathlessly, his mind racing to process that this victory was no longer a distant dream. “We did it.”

Like second nature, their bodies gravitated toward each other. Kageyama’s legs ached, and his hands were numb from so much tossing, but there was a visceral need to be close to Hinata that not even exhaustion could thwart.

Hinata lunged at him, arms securing around his shoulders, thighs gripping either side of his waist. Kageyama staggered in place but didn’t allow them to fall. 

Hinata pushed his face closer, and Kageyama could count every one of his damp eyelashes as they fanned his cheeks with every blink.

“O-oi…” he began to say, but something heavy rammed into his back, and before he knew it, the entire team was on top of them in a celebratory dog-pile. As luck would have it, he and Hinata wound up at the bottom; their bodies squished and hidden from view.

Hinata let out a small groan as his back hit the floor first, and their chests slammed together. 

While trying to find a comfortable position, Kageyama’s lips accidentally brushed against the other boy’s cheek, and he felt heat creep down his neck from the tips of his ears. 

He angled his head, eyes skimming expanses of pale skin until he found purchase in Hinata’s equally frazzled eyes.

With a gasp, Hinata’s lips parted to form a small ‘o,’ and Kageyama leaned forward to touch their lips together. It didn’t occur to him until moments later that Hinata might resent him for the brazen kiss, but the boy’s lips went slack, and the better-than-expected reception emboldened Kageyama to press himself closer.

When their teammates started to climb off them, Kageyama pulled away quickly.

Hinata opened his eyes slowly, as though awaking from a deep slumber, and Kageyama leaned back on his haunches to stand. When the taller boy was on his feet, Hinata, who’d gotten up on both elbows, stretched a hand out to Kageyama for help up.

They couldn’t bring themselves to look at one another as they rushed over to the rest of the team and the coaches. Nor did they exchange any words until they were on the bus ride back to school, and everyone else was fast asleep. 

Hinata came to sit in the back row beside Kageyama, who had his head propped on one hand against the window.

“Hey,” Hinata said, nudging him with an elbow. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

Kageyama shrugged noncommittally, but his heart was pounding.

“About before…” Hinata said, but before the smaller boy could utter a single word about what had happened after the game, Kageyama slammed a palm against his mouth and stared him down.

Hinata pulled him off him with a frown. “Jerk, what are you doing?”

“N-nothing,” Kageyama stuttered. “Just, let’s not talk about _that_ here.”

He leaned back in his seat and averted his gaze, trying to compose himself, but it was difficult to be candid when Hinata’s eyes were boring holes right through him. Hinata was the master when it came to annoying Kageyama, after all.

“Fine, but I get to hold your hand until we get to school.” 

“W-what! No.”

Ignoring his protests, Hinata did just that and weaved their fingers together. Kageyama made to pull away, but it was an embarrassingly half-hearted attempt. He wouldn’t admit that at that moment, the last thing he wanted was to be apart from Hinata. The boy emitted a warmth that often bordered on scalding, but Kageyama couldn’t deny that it had a therapeutic effect on him, too.

With a triumphant sigh, Hinata moved their clasped hands to rest atop his thigh.

Kageyama felt the heat of Hinata’s skin transfer to the back of his hand. He wanted to turn his palm over to touch him properly.

“You shouldn’t try to hide your feelings,” said Hinata, glancing down to fiddle with one of Kageyama’s fingers. “We probably could’ve done this a lot sooner.”

The child in Kageyama wanted to tear his hand away and throw a temper tantrum, but the older, more vindictive side of him stood his ground, refusing to be the only one flustered. He tightened his grip on the smaller boy’s hand.

_I’m not going to lose to you._

With a pout, Hinata’s gaze scaled the contours of Kageyama’s face. Calculating.

“Bakageyama,” he murmured, and it was such a tender sound that Kageyama’s mind short-circuited. Luckily, Hinata dropped his head on Kageyama’s shoulder before he could see the effect it’d had on him. 

Only Hinata could make him feel this way—like every word was flame that licked at his barriers, and every touch a torch that lit up his insides and consumed him. And the nickname—it itched like a healing burn on skin destined to bear his mark. 

Kageyama looked out the window and caught his smile on the glass, barely illuminated by vestiges of sunlight.

Yeah, Hinata was still a pain in the ass, but if that was the price owed for having him by his side, Kageyama wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I've made a twitter account(@FruitofSorrow) if anyone is interested in semi-live updates for future Haikyuu fics. I haven't gotten any requests yet, but if any of you want to send some my way, that would be the place to do it. Message me or tweet at me. Whichever you prefer.  
(๑°꒵°๑)･*♡


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